


Parallel Lines

by Hadles



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-02
Updated: 2014-07-02
Packaged: 2018-02-07 02:31:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1881756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hadles/pseuds/Hadles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two goblins from seemingly opposite lives meet in pre-Cataclysm Kezan. All OCs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Children

“We want the customers to think you’re cute, Lizzie. And cute girls have to smile.”

 

Alizz was ten years old. She stood in the studio dressing room, wearing an orange gingham dress frilly enough to make all her dolls jealous. Her father, dressed in a fine suit as always, pulled a yellow checked ribbon off the costume rack and affixed it in her hair. Taking a step back, he examined his daughter with a critical eye. He stroked his beard thoughtfully, squinting down at his showily dressed child. “Hmm. No.” He yanked the ribbon out of her hair and replaced it with a beret. “No, no. That’s even worse. We’ll go with the bow. Where are the costume crew people when you need them? Anyway, as I was saying, you NEED to smile, dear.”

 

“Dad, this is boring.” Alizz said finally, scratching at her head. Her normally soft blonde hair felt hard and scratchy, thanks to the hairspray. “I don’t want to do a photo shoot.”

 

Her father sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He knelt down next to his daughter, tossing the beret aside and delicately tying the bow in her hair. “Darling…sweetheart…” He began, smiling entreatingly, “I need you to cooperate with me. We have to capture your cute face before you start getting pimples. Customers don’t like pimply faced mascots.”

 

“But…” Alizz insisted, “I don’t want to be a mascot.”

 

Her father laughed gently. “That’s nonsense, honey. Of course you want to be a mascot. Daddy’s gonna make you famous. And when you’re famous, you’ll make lots and lots of money.” He patted her on the head. “Now show me your teeth. We have to make sure they’re white enough.”

 

Alizz dutifully showed her teeth. Her father leaned in, peering at them intensely. “They’ll do for now.” He concluded. “Wait here, princess. I’ll go let the photographers know we’re ready.” He gave her another fond pat on the head before vanishing from the dressing room. Alizz turned to look at herself in the mirror. Alizz hadn’t left the dressing room once this entire morning. Just two hours ago, makeup artists and hairstylists crowded the room, fretting over her hair and face. Then came the costume crew, laboriously picking out different dresses and accessories. Daddy watched the whole spectacle, beaming with pride. Finally, at long last, Alizz was alone in the cramped dressing room. There were no windows, just mirrors and bright, pineapple print wallpaper. Everywhere she looked, she saw herself reflected. They’d painted over her entire face – eyeliner to make her eyes look bigger, blush to make her look rosy-cheeked, lipstick. Her hair they twisted into perfect ringlet curls and then sprayed until it no longer moved. That’s showbiz, Daddy said. There’s no such thing as natural beauty. Daddy would know. The only thing he cared about more than his business was his face. And his daughter, of course.

 

Here was the plan. Daddy ran a snack empire – Fizzlebolt Confectionary Inc. Everyone on Kezan ate Fizzlebolt Poppers, even if they didn’t admit it. It was the closest thing to having an explosion in your mouth (and that was the slogan – customers dig explosions, Dad said). Their newest product, though, would take the goblin nation by storm. Lil’ Lizzie’s Snack Cakes – made with love. Inspired by the founder’s daughter, Lil’ Lizzie’s Snack Cakes would be the dose of kindness, sweetness, and innocence that so many city goblins found lacking in their lives. To sell such a saccharine product, though, one needed a cute mascot – a sweet face goblins could look to in such gloomy times. Since they were named for Alizz, she was the most obvious choice. It would have been perfect when she was five and still had baby chub, but she was ten and puberty was approaching like a freight train. They had to make her look tiny and innocent with visual tricks. That, or shell out money for an actual model (of course, that was a big no).

 

Her face was going to be famous. Curiously, Alizz touched her cheeks, wondering what she’d look like plastered all over billboards in Kezan. She hardly looked like herself. What if the customers didn’t like her? What if she actually made Daddy LOSE money? Alizz shivered, curling up into a ball. Would Daddy hate her forever? Force her to wear a bag on her head so she wouldn’t remind him of his failure? But no, he seemed so certain. She was going to be famous. Her face would be on the most popular snack in goblin history. Alizz was terrified. But telling him she didn’t want to do it did nothing. Daddy was always like that – full steam ahead, don’t look back.

 

A few minutes later, Daddy returned. Alizz saw him in the mirror as he entered. He smiled at her reflection, looking happier than Alizz had seen him in a long time. “You look exquisite, sweetheart. Everyone is going to love you!” He walked up beside her and offered her his hand. Tentatively, Alizz took it and followed him out into the hallway. Her sweaty palms slipped against her father’s fine white gloves. Her lip trembled. She’d never done a photo shoot before. The idea of strangers watching her through their lens…and then thousands of goblins seeing the pictures through that lens…made her sick with nervousness.

 

Her father, noticing her palm slipping, glanced down at her. He patted her on the head, gently so he didn’t ruin her hair. “Just remember to smile, Lizzie dear. The photographers will do the rest.”

 

* * *

 

 

Numli kicked in the screen door with his foot. It slammed loudly against the inside wall, causing the whole house to tremble. His father sat at the kitchen table, absently stirring a cold cup of coffee. He wore his work overalls, stained and wrinkled as they were, and there were still dark rings around his eyes where he wore his goggles. He glanced up as Numli entered. Seeing his son, he forced a smile. “Hey, kiddo. Where ya been?” He asked, blinking slowly. Numli could see the bags under his eyes.

 

Numli didn’t respond. He sidled into the small, dirty kitchen, clutching his right arm. Blood seeped through his fingers and dripped on the floor. His father watched him with a curious detachment, not getting up to help him. Numli dug through the kitchen cabinets until he found a roll of medical tape. Still not speaking to his father, he sat down at the table and began wrapping the cut on his arm. “Did you get into another fight?” His father asked finally once the wound was wrapped. “I wish you wouldn’t fight. Hospital bills are expensive and…”

 

“I can take care of myself.”  Numli replied quietly.  His father stared back down into his coffee, silent.

 

Another few moments passed. “Do you know where your mother is?” His father spoke again, quietly, head down. He scratched the wood grain on the table. Numli regarded him coldly. A big purple bruise shadowed his father’s jaw. The bridge of his hooked nose was slightly crooked, as though it had been broken and healed wrong.  A cut near his right eye was just beginning to scab over. “I…I took another shift, just like she asked. I came home to tell her.”

 

Numli pushed his chair back with a squeak.  He stood up. “She went out.” He replied coolly. “Some guys came by earlier and she left with them.”

 

His father blushed a deep green and stared darkly into his coffee. “Oh. All right.” He looked back up at his son. The older goblin’s eyes were bloodshot and dark. The bags under them seemed more pronounced than usual. Numli’s father was only in his forties, but there were already deep wrinkles creasing his forehead and cheeks. The eleven year old goblin couldn’t stand the sight of his father. “Do you…do you have money for dinner? In case she doesn’t come home in time?”

 

“I’ll be fine.” Numli replied. “Later.” With a half hearted wave, Numli turned and shouldered the screen door open. The smell of the slums hit him full in the face, but he was used to it by now. Garbage, the reek of rotten food, and the sour tang of gasoline. Even the sand here was black, soaked thoroughly by the oil dripping from the pipes overheard. Numli wiped his nose on his sleeve and stepped off the front porch. Soda cans blown by the wind were accumulating in the corner where the porch met the stairs. Numli kicked one as he walked along. Billboards glowed tantalizingly far above, some of them spray painted over with gang tags. Posters and advertisements cluttered every available wall. In the distance, Numli could faintly hear the sounds of yelling and gunshots. Between the billboards and pipelines, one could faintly make out the villas of the rich, all aglow with colored lights.

 

A newspaper kiosk stood on the side of the road. An old goblin in a fedora sat behind a wall of bullet-proof glass, casually flipping through a copy of the Kezan Times. He looked up as Numli approached. His eyes, much like Numli’s fathers, were bloodshot. “Whatcha want, kid?”

 

“Copy of the Times.”

 

“What’s a kid like you want with the Times? We got comic books.”

 

“Gimme the Times.”

 

The old goblin shrugged. “Two macaroons.” He pushed a copy of the Kezan Times through a small slot over the counter. Numli handed him two macaroons and took the paper. As he slipped the money through, the array of snacks behind the old goblin caught his eye.

 

“What are those?” He asked, pointing to a line of colorfully wrapped cupcakes just over the kiosk owner’s head.

 

The old goblin took one of them down. The wrapper was bright pink with swirly, delicate print on its logo. “New snack cakes. Got a shipment of ‘em the other day. They’re not bad if ya like sweets, which I don’t. But whatever. Ya want one, kid?”

 

“Sure.”

 

The kiosk owner slipped the snack cake through the slot. Numli paid him and walked off, paper under his arm and cake in his hand. There was a girl about his age on the wrapper, dressed in a silly frilly dress and posing cutely next to the logo. Tearing the wrapper, he tossed it aside without another thought.

 

They didn’t know who they would be when they grew up.

 

* * *

 

 

The photographers clicked their cameras. Alizz squinted in the flashing lights, finding it hard to smile so perfectly with people watching her. Taking photographs in a studio was one thing, but public appearances? Father had lost his mind. He stood by her, a hand on her shoulder, beaming perfectly – the picture of fatherly pride. Of course, everything father did was picture-perfect. His smile, his hair, his neatly trimmed beard. Alizz felt shame standing next to him. If she wavered, frowned for even a minute, the paparazzi would catch it and she’d shame him.

 

Alizz wasn’t gloomy. Not by a long shot. Smiling was easy most of the time. It was like going to the bathroom, though. Easy in private, but how could you go to the bathroom while people were watching?

 

“We at Fizzlebolt Confectionary wish to promote KINDNESS and LOVE for our fellow goblins.” Daddy said in his booming, friendly voice. With his free arm, he gestured grandly to the slums around them. “Even to the poor. After all, the poor buy things too!” The crowd of photographers and reporters laughed. Alizz looked around. The slums were even worse than she had imagined. The stink was enough to make her stomach turn. The ground itself was black and smelly. Alizz quickly understood why she and her father were standing on a plastic tarp. Just stepping on that black filth the slummers called ground would ruin your shoes forever.

 

Even the people looked different. Aside from the photographers and reporters, who were generally well dressed, the slum goblins wore filthy, oil-stained rags and sometimes went without shoes. They all looked old, even the children. Although the photographers flocked around Alizz and her father, none of the slum goblins seemed at all interested. They ambled along, going about their business, pausing only to glance in her direction before moving on. A group of boys about her age sat around the base of a nearby pipe, watching idly out of the corners of their eyes as they talked amongst themselves.

 

Daddy snapped his fingers in front of her. “Lizzie, love, pay attention.” Alizz jumped and blushed deeply, embarrassed. The crowd laughed again. “As you can see for yourselves, even dear little Lizzie is concerned for the plight of poor goblins. The kindness in her young heart is unmatched!” Alizz smiled dutifully, making a big show of looking concerned. In truth, she couldn’t wait to get out. The slums stank. The slum goblins had tattoos and carried knives. Bits of trash rolled around in the street, blown by a great stinking wind. The whole place turned Alizz’s stomach. She wanted nothing more than to leave and go back to their pretty villa overlooking the coast. “That’s why, to show our solidarity with the poor, we’ve decided to make a charitable donation to be put toward fighting gang violence in low-income neighborhoods. Every purchase you make from Fizzlebolt Confectionary will help stop the horrid, goblin against goblin violence.”

 

The reporters clapped politely and snapped photos. None of them cared a lick about gang violence in the slums. If poor goblins didn’t like the mob in their neighborhood, well, they should just get rich and move out. But poor goblins were some of the biggest buyers of junk food, mostly because it was cheap. Making a big show of “caring”, even when they didn’t, would bring in more customers. The bottom line was the most important thing, after all. What had father said to her before they came? ‘Just hold your breath and don’t look any of them in the eye. Don’t worry, darling, we won’t have to hang around those unsavory types for long’. Alizz did as Daddy told her.

 

“Now, gentlemen, if you’ll follow me, I’ll show you just what good Fizzlebolt Confectionary can do…” Beckoning the reporters, Daddy followed the tarp path away from the slums. The crowd followed him, circling him like buzzards. Alizz trailed after, but a sudden shout stopped her.

 

“Hey! You! In the skirt!”

 

The group of boys by the pipe was beckoning her. Alizz stared at them, glancing between them and her rapidly disappearing father. “C’mon, toots! Get over her! Let’s have a look at ya!” The boys called. Alizz hovered uncertainly. Tentatively, she stepped off the tarp and wandered toward the group of boys. The leader was probably not older than thirteen, but he was tall for a goblin and very muscular. He had a dagger tattooed on his right bicep and a nude goblin woman with big tits on his left. The other boys, all between nine and twelve, already looked like hardened criminals. They were adults. Not like her. They leered nastily at her as she approached. Alizz already wished she hadn’t walked over to them. “You’re the girl from the billboards, right?” The oldest boy pointed at a billboard advertising ‘Lil’ Lizzie’s Snack Cakes’ looming overhead. Alizz blushed and nodded.

 

“Those things taste like crap.”

 

“She’s kinda cute up close, isn’t she?”

 

“Why don’t you sit down and hang out with us, toots?”

 

Alizz wrung her hands nervously, unsure of what to do. Had Daddy noticed she was missing yet? Was he too busy talking about how lovely and grand his company was for caring about the poor, even if he really didn’t? Alizz nervously glanced around, trying to find someone, anyone, who looked clean and familiar.

 

“You mooks leave her alone.”

 

Alizz looked up hopefully to see the face of her rescuer. He was a boy, not much older than she was, with a shock of vibrant teal hair and the bluest eyes Alizz had ever seen. His clothes were ripped and dirty and a length of bloody medical tape was tied around his right arm, possibly where he’d been stabbed. The longer Alizz looked at him, the scrappier he appeared. Bruises, no shoes, white calluses on his hands and feet. Still, there was a difference between him and the boys sitting at the base of the pipe. Alizz couldn’t say what.  He looked directly at Alizz for a moment then back at the tall leader of the boys. “She ain’t from the slums. She’s not ‘ere for you to mess around with. So just let ‘er go.”

 

The older boy with the tattoos raised a slim red eyebrow. “Not like you to stand up for a rich girl, Numli.” He shrugged. “She ain’t that cute anyway.” He waved Alizz off with a flick of his wrist. Alizz took a few hurried steps backward. She glanced at the teal-haired boy before she left. He wasn’t looking at her, instead staring steadily at the older boy. His blue eyes were hard, challenging. _I dare you to touch her._ They said. _I dare you._

 

“Th-thank you.” Alizz whispered, quickly darting off. Even as she ran away, the boy didn’t look at her. A part of her sorely wished he had.


	2. Adults

A goblin born in the slums of Kezan had only two things to look forward to: pay day and death. If you were born in the slums, you were almost guaranteed to stay in the slums. If you were lucky, you got a job working _somewhere_ , but most of the time poor goblins were forced to join up with the mob just to get enough to eat. That was how things worked in Kezan – the rich got richer and the poor were left sucking wind.

 

It was nearly unheard of for a slums goblin to become an entrepreneur. They didn’t have the funds. Even if they managed to scrape together enough for a small business, such ventures were often quickly squashed by their bigger competitors. After seeing the repeated failures of their friends, slums goblins usually resigned themselves to their doom. Their hunger for riches and notoriety would never be satisfied.

 

Numli was never the type to lay down and accept fate, though.

 

“I need a loan.”

 

Numli, age twenty three, stood before the current heads of the Kezan Slums Mob. The mob leader was an old goblin, his vibrant blue hair streaked with grey. He wore a simple grey suit, large gold rings flashing on his fingers. Scars crisscrossed his face, neck, and hands. “How much?” The mob leader asked. His voice was hoarse and gravelly – the result of a lifetime of breathing the smoky slum air.

 

Numli looked into the faces of the twelve heads. They were finely dressed and wore jewelry, but the slums were still written all over their faces. Twelve pairs of bloodshot eyes stared back at him. Ears were ripped, cheeks were scarred, necks were tattooed. Their expressions told him just how they’d break his kneecaps if he dared not to pay them back. Numli did a few quick calculations in his head. He looked up at the mob leader, meeting his eyes. “Two mil.” Numli said finally. “I’ll pay back every cent.”

 

“Two million? You’re nuts, kid. Just what is it that you want a loan for?” The mob leader laughed quietly.  His underlings laughed with him. Numli didn’t look away or blush. Showing even a hint of weakness would give them license to run all over him.

 

“I want to start a company.”

 

“Oh? And what would you be selling?”

 

“Textiles mostly.”

 

The mob leader snorted derisively. “Textiles, he says. You hear that, boys? Numli here is going to be dealing with _fabrics_.” The underlings laughed dutifully. “You some kind of fruitcake, son? And what the hell makes you think you can succeed dealing in ‘textiles’?”

 

“It’s a new industry in Kezan. We can’t exactly grow cotton here, so I’ve been looking into producing synthetic, oil based textiles. It’s a gold mine. The industry is small and no one holds a monopoly yet.” Numli replied matter-of-factly. The eyes of the underlings widened. A few turned to whisper amongst themselves. The mob head stared him down, fingers steepled. Numli stared back defiantly.

 

Finally, letting out a deep sigh, the mob head spoke. “Well, kid, it’s clear you’ve done your homework.” He began. “But I’m not convinced. Two mil’s a big investment. We’re not made of money. So…here’s what we’ll do. This is just for you, kid, because I like your moxie. I’ll give you…oh, say, ten percent of your loan. That should cover startup costs, right? Anyway…you start your little company. Once you start bringing in some cash, I’ll give you the rest of your loan. That’s fair, ain’t it?”

 

Numli dug his hands in his pockets. He pulled out a slightly crumpled, yellowed photograph. The picture showed his mother, still alive and much younger, arm in arm with a youthful version of the mob boss. He put the photograph face up on the table and slid it toward the boss, who examined it carefully. “You and my mum.” Numli began, “You were friends, right? Dad always thought she was sleeping with you. That’s why you paid for her funeral, he said.”

 

“Bixie was yer mum?” The mob head asked, squinting curiously at Numli.

 

“She was. And she wouldn’t appreciate you screwing over her son.”

 

The mob boss stared hard at the old photograph. Numli could see his bottom lip quivering. “Fine.” He slammed the photograph face down on the table, pushing it away from him violently. “You’ll get your two mil. But if you don’t pay me back in a year, my boys’ll slit your cheeky little throat. Capiche?”

 

“Got it.”

 

“And I mean _in full_. No extensions, none of that bullcrap. If you try to screw us, we’ll kill you.” The mob boss growled. Numli didn’t flinch. “I’ll transfer the money to your bank account by tomorrow. Now get out of my sight.”

 

Numli flashed a toothy grin. With a flippant wave, he turned and walked out of the room.

 

* * *

 

“We’re so sorry to hear about your loss.”

 

Alizz tried to count the number of times she’d heard that phrase today. Fifty times? Sixty? She stood respectfully by her father’s casket, listening to condolences as all of his friends passed by. “Ferengi was such a charming goblin.” One lady said, clutching her hand. She started crying when she passed the coffin. Many ladies had the exact same reaction. Alizz wondered idly just how many women had been in love with her father. Every time a woman started bawling over her father’s corpse, Alizz couldn’t help but speculate about whether or not one of the old ladies here was her mother.

 

Father looked exactly as he had in life. He wore his finest white suit in the casket, his fingers gilded with rings. Heaps of white flowers outlined his body. His gold hair was perfectly curled, just the way he wore it when he was alive. The mortician gave him a serene, secretive little smile, the kind of smile he used to give Alizz as a child when she asked why she had to sit for five hour photo shoots. ‘You’ll understand when you’re older, baby.’ Well, now she was older. She was twenty two. She still didn’t understand.

 

One of her father’s business colleagues, dressed in a black suit, approached the coffin. He shook her hand, bowing his head respectfully. “Poor Ferengi.” He said, glancing toward the casket and shaking his head. “Liver failure. Who would have thought. I suppose you’ll be taking over Fizzlebolt Confectionary now, Miss Alizz?”

 

Alizz shook her head. “Actually, no. I’m leaving my father’s assistant in charge of Fizzlebolt Confectionary. I’m interested in starting my own business.”

 

The older goblin openly gawked at her. “Are you sure? I mean…your father would have wanted you to take over.”

 

“Yes. He left control of the company to me in his will, but I don’t want it.” Alizz flashed a sheepish smile. “To be honest, nine years of being the company mascot have left a bad taste in my mouth.”

 

“I understand. Well…I wish you luck in…whatever it is that you’re going to do.” The older goblin replied. He let go of her hand. He shook his head solemnly as he passed the open casket.

 

The next goblin in line was a young man with bright teal hair. He looked profoundly uncomfortable in his cheap dark blue suit. His face was rough and scarred, the face of a poor goblin raised in the slums. He glanced awkwardly toward the casket and then, lifting his head, met Alizz’s eyes. Alizz blinked, frowning at the young man. Blue. His eyes were a bright, shocking blue. He snuffled up to Alizz, offering her his hand. The other hand was jammed deep in his pants pocket. “Uh, hello, Miss Fizzlebolt.” He said. His voice was rough. “I heard your dad died.”

 

“I think that would be obvious.” Alizz replied. His face was unsettlingly familiar. “Have we met before?”

 

“No, we haven’t. I’m…”

 

“From the slums. I know.” She pointed down at his suit. “Your clothes look cheap.”

 

He frowned at her. “I couldn’t afford anything nicer.”

 

Alizz sighed. “Well…I suppose it doesn’t matter.” She smiled gently at the young man. “My father would be very happy to hear that slums goblins were coming to pay their respects. He always believed in the plight of the poor.” That was a straight lie. Father only ‘believed’ in the poor when it worked to his advantage. Since his company produced cheap junk food, he was always pandering to the poor. The poor bought most of his food, after all.

 

“Listen, Miss Fizzlebolt, I heard you wanted to start your own company.” The slums goblin continued. Behind him, the other mourners were starting to get annoyed. They whispered nastily amongst themselves. The young man glanced nervously over his shoulder. “I have a proposition for you, if you’re willing to listen.”

 

Alizz peered at him, trying to remember where she’d seen his face before. He was decently handsome, in a coarse, vicious sort of way, but not good looking enough to pique her interest. His blue eyes were hard and bright. When he looked at her, it was like a laser cutting into her skin. She couldn’t decide if she liked him or not. Finally, after a few moments of uncomfortable silence, she spoke. “I’m willing. Why don’t you come back here after I’m finished seeing all the mourners?”

 

They locked eyes for a moment. “All right. See you, then.” He lifted her hand and kissed it before moving on. Alizz looked down, rubbing the back of her hand. She watched him as he walked away, sauntering past the coffin without so much as a cursory glance at her father. She bit her bottom lip in thought. He hadn’t come to pay respects at all, had he?

 

* * *

 

 

Numli returned after the last of the mourners had departed. Alizz Fizzlebolt stood right where she had when he’d spoken to her an hour or so previously. She hovered next to the coffin, looking uncertainly down into the face of her dead father. Numli looked her up and down. She wore the customary black. Her dress was simple in design, but the fabric seemed to shimmer and shift in the light. It hugged her curves beautifully. Numli quickly looked down. She’d probably be mad if she caught him leering at her. “Mizz Fizzlebolt?” He called. Alizz looked up. She flashed a charming smile at him, the same smile that had graced billboards in the slums for nine whole years.

 

“There you are. I thought you weren’t coming.” Alizz walked over to him, her high heels clicking on the tile floor. “Sorry, but…what was your name, again? I don’t think I caught it when we spoke last.” Her accent when she spoke was very cultivated and high class, not anything like the twangy accents of the goblin girls in the slums. She offered him her hand.

 

“Numli Buckspanner, miss.” Numli replied, shaking her hand.

 

“You said you had a business proposition for me.”

 

“I do. Is there somewhere we could talk in private?” He asked.

 

Alizz nodded, pointing toward a door off the main chamber. Inside was a small office. Once they were inside, Alizz dropped her purse on the ground and sat on the edge of the desk. She crossed her ankles, pushing her high heels off with her toes. “Hope you don’t mind.” She sighed. “I’ve been wearing those things for hours and my feet are sore.”

 

“It’s fine.” Numli replied, sinking down into an armchair opposite her. “You’re starting your own business, right? What are you thinking of selling?”

 

“Clothes. Jewelry. Media. Anything but junk food.” Alizz brushed her blonde hair back behind her ears. “I’ve always liked clothes. When I was a kid, I used to design outfits for my dolls.”

 

“Well, then this is perfect.”

 

She looked at him curiously. “What’s perfect?”

 

“Miss Fizzelbolt, I’m in the middle of building a textile company.” Numli leaned forward into his chair. “What do you say to working together? You’ve already got a high status in the business world. You could help me build a good rep and I could provide you with fine fabrics for cheap.”

 

Alizz cocked her head, peering at him inquisitively. “You’ve got some nerve, Mr. Buckspanner. Coming to me with this on the day of my dear old Daddy’s funeral.” She hopped off the desk and padded toward him, her feet soft on the wood floor. She gripped the arm of his chair. “A slums goblin building a company. You with the mob? How exactly did you get into Daddy’s funeral without an invitation?”

 

“Forged an invite.” Numli answered. “It was easy. And, no, Miss Fizzlebolt, I ain’t with the mob. I’m here on my own because I saw an opportunity.”

 

“You’re awfully bold.” She grinned at him. “I like you. Well, Mr. Buckspanner, let’s give this a try. I’ll work with you.”

 

“You won’t regret it.”


	3. Rivalry

“Feel this.”

 

Alizz looked up from her notepad. Across the table, Numli was proffering her a small square of fabric. As she reached out to take the square, their fingertips brushed just slightly. For half a second, Alizz caught his eye. She glanced down at the square in her hand. Her face felt unbearably hot. She rubbed the square between her thumb and forefinger, not really thinking about how it felt but the roughness of Numli’s hands. After a few seconds of silence, Numli asked, “Well? Whaddaya think?”

 

Alizz snapped out of her reverie. “Oh. Oh! It’s nice. It feels very light.” She replied. “What is it? It feels a little like linen.” She handed it back to him. Once again, their fingers touched. His hands were covered with thick, white calluses, so unlike her own. When they touched, it was like rubbing her fingers against sandpaper.

 

“Something my lab boys whipped up. It’s synthetic, _very_ cheap to produce. Ya like it?” Numli smiled at her. His teeth were yellow. Alizz nodded. “I was lookin’ at the new line you released, ya know? I was thinkin’…hey, maybe you could release a line of summer wear with this fabric.”

 

Alizz caught herself staring at him again. He hadn’t shaved today. Stubble shaded his pointed jaw. He had a few pinkish nicks on his face and neck, the remainders of some long forgotten street fight. Although he’d finally bought some nicer clothes, the suit he wore looked rumpled and disorderly. He watched her intently, waiting for a response. Alizz’s face grew hot again. “Summer wear. That’s a good idea.”

 

“It gets so damn hot here in the summer. Folks’ll eat it up, I swear.” Numli answered. “The fabric costs next to nothin’ to produce. No matter _what_ you sell the clothes for, you’ll turn a profit. And I’m the only one in Kezan who knows how to make it.”

 

“Wait, so…you aren’t gonna sell it to anyone else?”

 

“Hell no, toots.”

 

Alizz beamed at him. “Thanks for this, Nums. You’re a real swell guy.”

 

“Well, you’re the one who helped jump start my company. Might as well give you somethin’ in return. So it’s all yours, Lizzie. If you want it, that is.”

 

“Sure I do. How much per foot?”

 

“For you? Er, 30 macaroons for a hundred feet. That work for you, doll?”

 

 “That’s so cheap. You sure?”

 

“Sure I’m sure.” He replied, rocking his chair back and forth on its back legs. “I do…have sort of a favor to ask, though.”

 

Alizz blinked owlishly. “What’s that?”

 

“Well…see…Lizzie, if anyone else knew I was doin’ this, I’d get blacklisted by a lot of buyers. I need the money to pay back some debts I owe from back when I started the company.” He pulled a toothpick from his breast pocket and started chewing on it. “You understand we can’t be too open about helpin’ each other out. If anyone knew, I’d take the brunt of the punishment.”

 

“So…” Alizz began, “You’re saying we can’t do… _this_ anymore.” She poked her notepad with her pen. “Cut special deals in private, I mean.”

 

“I’m not sayin’ that, toots. Just that we can’t make it public knowledge.” Numli replied. “In fact, the best thing we could probably do is act like we’re rivals.”

 

“Rivals?” Alizz echoed, narrowing her eyes at Numli.

 

“Sure, Lizzie. All business ownin’ goblins are technically rivals, am I right? We just need to play it up a little.” He replied, using his toothpick to gesture. “You’re an actress, right? Should be easy for a dame like you.”

 

“I was a mascot, not an actress.”

 

“Same difference, Liz.”

 

Alizz looked at the rough goblin across from her, then down at her notepad. Rivals. What would that entail? Goblins were too smart to act hostile in public. Two business goblins openly going at each others’ throats definitely meant something shady was going on between them. “It wouldn’t work. If we were making similar products…or competing for the same resources…then, maybe. But we’re in entirely different industries. Even if it was just a friendly rivalry, no one would buy it.” Alizz answered at last.

 

“You forgot one thing.”

 

“What?”

 

“Trade Prince.”

 

 “Trade Prince?”

 

“Here’s how it’ll go. Only the richest goblin in Kezan gets to be Trade Prince. You and me make like we’re both aimin’ for the office. There’s no reason two Trade Prince candidates would ever help each other.” Numli explained. “Instant rivalry, no hassle.”

 

“Numli, neither of our companies are even halfway big enough to compete for Trade Prince.”

 

Numli grinned toothily. “Not yet, Alizz. But they will be.”

 

* * *

 

 

The ‘rivals for Trade Prince’ act started that week. Alizz announced to a crowd of eager reporters that she intended to become the next Trade Princess the very day after they spoke. The tabloids descended upon her like a swarm of locusts. ‘Fizzlebolt, A Fool?’ One paper asked. Every rag in Kezan was eager to mock her. Gallywix apparently laughed when he heard of Alizz’s intentions. Though some applauded her for her ambition, public opinion was that Alizz Fizzlebolt, daughter of the great Ferengi Fizzlebolt, was a complete idiot.

 

Numli didn’t think so.

 

She was on his mind during the day at work. As he left his office in the afternoon, he found himself wondering if he should swing by her house to talk about the papers. Her house was just a five minutes’ walk from his new villa and she’d doubtless be worrying over what the tabloids said. The day was relatively clear, too, in spite of the ever present smog that hung over downtown Kezan. A nice day for a walk. Rays of yellow, tropical sunlight filtered through the grey cloud layer. Numli stepped over a few oily puddles as he crossed the streets of downtown Kezan.

 

 He was almost to his new neighborhood when an unfamiliar car pulled up by the curb. Three goblins sat in the car, two in the front seat and one in the back. “Hey, Buckspanner!” The driver called, beckoning him with one finger. One look at the goblins told Numli who they worked for. Between the scars, the gang colors, and the tattoos, it was all too clear that they were with the mob. “Boss wants to see you. Get in.”

 

“Sorry, I’m busy.” Numli answered, turning his back on the goblins in the car and strolling away. They followed him slowly in the car, hugging the curb.

 

“This is serious.” The goblin in the backseat said. “Boss wants to know where his money is.”

 

“I have it. Stop bothering me.” Numli snapped, still walking. He didn’t look any of them in the eyes.

 

The driver sighed deeply. He was a tall goblin with most of his body elaborately tattooed. “Listen, buddy. Just get in the damn car so we don’t have to beat you up.”

 

“As if you could.” Numli sneered, finally deigning to look at the goblins in the car. “Anyways, it’s only been ten months. You just tell your boss to hold his damn horses. I’ll have the money.”

 

The driver stared at Numli incredulously. He brought the car to a screeching halt. “Looks like he’s not coming quietly, boys.” Numli kept walking. Behind him, the driver killed the engine. Car doors slammed and boots clattered on pavement. Numli stopped in his tracks. He turned around to face his attackers. The driver cracked his knuckles, pointy yellow teeth bared. Slowly, Numli reached for the switchblade inside his coat. As soon as he moved to grab his knife, though, the other two goblins pulled theirs. “Listen, we’re giving you one more chance. Get in the car and we won’t have to rip up that pretty face o’ yers.”

 

“I told you mooks to step off.” Numli flipped open his switchblade. “You suckers really gonna assault me in broad daylight?”

 

“Don’t see why not.” The driver replied, cracking his neck. “What Boss wants, he gets.”

 

Numli didn’t even have time to respond. The two knife-wielding goblins suddenly rushed from both sides. Numli quickly ducked and sidestepped, just in time to feel the knife blades slash by his face. With a swift kick to the groin, he incapacitated the first goblin. Numli watched as his victim fell to his knees, gasping in pain and clutching his crotch.

 

The second goblin stepped over his friend, brandishing his knife showily. He took a few quick jabs at Numli, all of which barely missed him. With a quick slash at the knife wielder’s hand, Numli forced him to drop his blade.  The knife wilder hissed in pain, clutching his wounded hand. The blade spun across the pavement, coming to a stop several feet away. Numli grinned, moving to stab the knife wielder a second time.

 

Then, all of a sudden, the third goblin, the heavily tattooed driver, appeared next to Numli. The driver seized him from behind, grabbing him under the arms. Numli’s switchblade dropped from his hand. Growling in anger, the knife wielder dashed up and punched Numli hard in the face. A sickening snap rang in Numli’s ears. Pain radiated across his skin from the break, sinking down into his skull. Blood dribbled from his nostrils. The driver hauled the struggling Numli down the sidewalk and shoved him in the backseat of the car. Numli landed face down against the red vinyl.

 

“Hold him down. Make sure he doesn’t try anything funny.” The driver hissed, leaping over the car door into the front seat. The other two goblins piled in the back, pushing Numli’s broken nose into the hot vinyl and tying his hands. His face was alight with screaming pain, searing his skin and making his eyes water. Numli struggled violently against his attackers, but to no avail. The car rumbled to life beneath them. “Be careful now. Boss wants him in one piece.”

 

Numli’s blood matched the cherry vinyl perfectly.

 

* * *

 

 

‘Alizz Fizzlebolt Gunning for Trade Princess’! ‘Fizzlebolt’s Ambitions Revealed – Gallywix unafraid’. ‘Fizzlebolt – Determined or Stupid’?

 

Alizz shuffled through the tabloids laid out of her coffee table. All day, she’d been hounded by reporters. They followed her around at work, while shopping. A few of them even tried to tail her into the bathroom. The tabloids were splashed with black and white pictures of her from the press conference. Every headline announced her intent. More than a few questioned her ability. After all, what did a young goblin in her twenties know about running a trade cartel? Gallywix, one publication claimed, didn’t even know who she was. Another claimed he openly laughed when he heard her announcement. With a swipe of her hand, Alizz scooped the tabloids up and dumped them in the garbage.

 

She sank down into the couch, covering her face with her palm. Even in the silence of her house she could feel every goblin in Kezan laughing at her, like a million tiny needles. She didn’t even really want to be Trade Princess. What was so good about running the cartel anyway? Sure, there was the fame, the fortune, the power, but you always had rivals gunning for your job and assassins gunning for your head. Even worse than the mocking tabloids, though, was the fact that Numli hadn’t called. He hadn’t spoken to her all day. The longer Alizz sat there, the more she thought he’d done this on purpose – convinced her to propose herself as a candidate for Trade Princess just to make her look like a fool. That was it. He’d made a fool of her on purpose.

 

The doorbell buzzed. Slowly, Alizz staggered up off the couch. Every part of her felt like death and misery. She lurched toward the front door, fully expecting another cache of reporters eager to mock her and take unflattering photographs. “I don’t really feel like answering questions right now.” She said aloud before even opening the door. “So if you could come back tomorrow, I’d appreciate it.”

 

“I ain’t here to ask questions.” A voice said on the other side of the door. Alizz’s eyes snapped open. Quickly, she jerked the door open. Outside on the porch stood Numli, looking several degrees worse than Alizz had ever seen him. He half-leaned on the door frame, dried blood covering his nose and chin. He flashed an apologetic smile at her, an expression that seemed entirely grotesque with the bright red blood staining his pointed teeth. “Sorry for droppin’ in on ya, toots, but I was wonderin’ if I could borrow a bandage.”

 

“What happened to you?” Alizz murmured, staring in shock at the blood on his face. Purple bruises were beginning to form on his chin and forehead, especially around his nose, which looking more crooked than usual. Numli sniffed and fresh blood oozed out of his nostrils. Brown droplets dotted his white dress shirt. Tenderly, Alizz reached out and touched his cheek. “Your nose is broken, isn’t it?”

 

“Gee, is it that obvious?” Numli responded, giving a wheezy chuckle. Alizz drew back her hand, blushing a fierce green. She stepped out of the way of the door so he could enter. Numli walked inside, looking around curiously at the inside of her home. “Nice place ya got, toots. I guess ya like antiques?”

 

“Daddy collected them. I inherited the villa after he died.” Alizz answered, staring down at her feet. “I didn’t really feel like buying all new furniture, so I just left it.”

 

Numli grinned again. “No, I kinda like it. Looks cozy.” He turned around to face her, wiping his nose on the back of his hand. His hands were streaked with crusty blood. “Ya got a bathroom I could use, Liz?”

 

Alizz frowned at him. “That looks like a serious break. You need to go to the hospital, Numli.”

 

“What, I ain’t welcome here?” He asked, laughing a little. His laughs were more nasal than usual, thanks to the break. “I never liked hospitals much anyway.”

 

Alizz sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “You can clean up here, but I’m taking you to a hospital.” She lowered her hand, glaring at him poisonously. “And…to be honest, no, you ‘ain’t’ welcome. I didn’t even want to see you tonight. Bathroom’s upstairs, third door on the right. Hurry up and get clean.”

 

Numli’s grin faded. He stared at her quizzically, cocking his head slightly. “Hell. Yer really mad, ain’tcha, toots?” He took a few steps forward. “Listen, I didn’t know they were gonna roast ya in the papers like they did. Ya know…if it was me, I would have said you’d be a good Trade Princess. Anyone’s better than that fat pig Gallywix.”

 

Alizz’s face burned with rage. She stormed up to Numli and slapped him hard across the face. Numli hissed, clutching his broken nose. “You don’t think I can do it either! I’m only just a degree better than Gallywix, huh?” Alizz squealed, hot tears suddenly running down her face. “I can’t believe you convinced me to do this! Now I’m the laughing stock of all Kezan and it’s _all your fault!_ ”

 

Numli’s eyes watered with pain. “Geez, woman!” He spat, tenderly holding his nose. “What’s gotten into you?”

 

“Have you even _read_ what they wrote about me in those horrible rags?!”

 

“Yes, I did! I read everything!” Numli growled, teeth clenched. “And ya know what, toots? It wasn’t _that bad_. Grow a thicker skin, would ya? Geez. I never knew women were _so fucking sensitive._ Hell, if I knew that, I never woulda gotten involved with you.” He turned suddenly, not allowing her to respond, and stumbled up the foyer staircase. Alizz stood there in middle of the foyer, alone, listening to him mutter as he ascended the staircase and ducked into the bathroom. Her face burned with tears, frustration, and embarrassment. She wiped at the tears with her hands, but they kept coming. Upstairs, she could hear Numli crashing through the medicine cabinets and running the faucet. Slowly, she sank to her knees. Upstairs, the sound of the faucet cut off and she was left in silence.

 

Alizz was still on her knees when Numli came back down the stairs. He’d scrubbed all the dried blood off his face, but there were still many purple-blue bruises where he’d been struck. A dark mark where she’d slapped him was still visible on his cheek. He’d managed to snap his nose back into place, but it still looked weirdly off kilter. He saw her from the top of the stairs and let out a deep sigh. She looked up at him, her eyes puffy and red from crying. “I’m sorry.” She sniffled, looking away to hide her inelegant blubbering. “I’ve just been so frustrated.”

 

“Yeah, well, you shouldn’ta slapped me. Geez.” Numli sighed, descending the staircase. He offered her his hand. Alizz took it and pulled herself up off the floor. “Stop crying now. You said you were gonna drive me to the hospital, right?”

 

“If we’re supposed to be rivals…” Alizz muttered, still not daring to look him in the face, “…we probably shouldn’t be seen together. If people see you leaving my house…”

 

Numli sighed again. “Listen, the only reason I came here is because your place was closer and I wanted to explain about the tabloids. I can just go home and drive myself to the hospital if ya want.”

 

Alizz looked up at him finally. “Who did that to you, anyway?”

 

“Oh, no one. I owe a guy some money. You know how it is.” Numli replied nonchalantly. “I’ve had worse. I can fix it up myself. Really don’t need a doctor.”

 

“Of course you need a doctor! How can you just ‘fix it up yourself’? What if you get infected with something?”

 

“Eh, it’s never happened before. I’ll deal with that when I get to it.” He glanced around, tapping his foot impatiently. “So? You gonna drive me or what?”

 

Alizz sniffled , rubbing her eyes. “How much do you owe?”

 

“What?”

 

“The guy who broke your nose. How much do you owe him?”

 

Numli glanced around awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well…I’ve been making payments. So my debt oughta be down to, I dunno, two hundred thou? Maybe a little less.”  He looked at her curiously. “Why do ya ask, toots?”

 

Alizz said nothing. She disappeared into the living room and reclaimed her purse. Pulling out her checkbook, she quickly scribbled down a check for two hundred thousand macaroons made out to Numli. Tearing it off, she walked back into the next room and proffered it to him. He stared down at the check, hesitating. “So you don’t get hurt again.” Alizz murmured, shaking the check at him.

 

Numli took it from her, frowning deeply at the slip of paper. “Lizzie…you don’t have to.”

 

“You won’t let me take you to a hospital. I don’t want you to get hurt again.”

 

Numli grinned. “You can take me to a hospital if you really want to, but…damn. Are you sure you wanna give me this?”

 

“It’s my apology for slapping you.”

 

For a moment, silence. Then all of a sudden, Numli burst out laughing. Alizz looked up, face hot with shame. Numli wheezed with mirth. In one fluid motion, he ripped the check in half and let it fall to the floor. Alizz gaped at him, her eyes jumping between his face and the ripped check. He affectionately ruffled her hair. “Yer a good kid, Lizzie. Sheltered as hell, but good.” Numli chuckled. “I couldn’t take money from such a sweet girl.”

 

“But…but…”

 

“You just drive me to the hospital, doll. We can take the back entrance so no one sees.” He smiled sweetly at her. Alizz’s heart fluttered in her chest. “We can sort everything out later. Whaddaya say?”

 

Alizz gazed at him for a moment. Her face felt as though it was on fire. How could he just forgive her so easily? She reached out and pulled him into a tight hug. Surprisingly, he hugged back, gently squeezing her shoulders and stroking her hair.

 

“Sounds good to me, Nums.”


	4. Lovers

The space between them left a hole in Alizz’s heart.

 

The tabloids soon moved away from her candidacy for Trade Princess. There were juicier stories unfolding. A week after Numli appeared at her house, nose broken, the Kezan slums were wracked with sudden explosions. Reporters flooded the blast area, snapping pictures of the carnage and counting bodies for their articles. According to the Kezan Times, the explosion killed not one, but four influential leaders in the Kezan Slums mob. Even stranger, rescuers found the burnt remains of two hundred thousand macaroons right at the blast site. The papers were all over it for weeks, speculating the nature of the explosion. A terrorist attack? Someone’s brutal revenge on the Kezan Slums Mob? Faulty gas lines? No two sources seemed to agree. As time passed, though, the papers forgot the explosions just as they forgot Alizz. Their source was left thankfully unknown.

 

Alizz couldn’t forget the way Numli held her that night he’d showed up at her door. Mad with loneliness and frustration, she’d suddenly grabbed hold of him. Instead of pushing her away, Numli wrapped his arms around her and held her for several minutes. She couldn’t forget the smell of him. The scent of blood, rust, and oil seeped into his skin, imbuing his body with a strange, bitter tang. It was only reluctantly that she’d let him go that night. His nose was broken, after all. She needed to take him to the hospital. But a part of her still wished she’d taken him upstairs instead.

 

Communication between them dropped off after the explosion in the slums. He lived nearby and preferred to walk to work, so Alizz still saw him strolling by her house one in a while. Whenever he caught her looking at him, he’d lift his hand and give a friendly wave, but nothing more. His company, in the immediate wake of the disaster, shifted away from fabrics and began work processing chemicals. His business mushroomed from there, feeding off the explosions in the slums to build itself up. Her ‘under-the-table’ deals with Numli stopped as soon as the switch was made. There was no more reason for him to speak to her. ‘It’s all part of the rivalry act’, Alizz told herself at first, but she knew better. He didn’t need her anymore.

 

In time, Alizz began to feel ashamed of her emotions. She clutched the memory of Numli holding her like a treasure. Even long after their friendship ended, she still felt a helpless, bitter rush of affection whenever she saw Numli. He stood out at gatherings of high class goblins, the scarred, rough looking gangster that he was. Somehow, now that they weren’t talking anymore, her silly, girlish crush flourished. He was a proper rival now. With his newly repurposed company, the Kajaro Processing Co., he’d made a fortune equal to hers in the space of a few short years. Both their fortunes grew. The tabloids looked at them both with respect. Alizz was a proper candidate for Trade Prince now. So was Numli.

 

Their friendship was gone. Finally, Alizz convinced herself to let go. They were true rivals now. Tender feelings would just get in the way. It was best to just get rid of them.

 

So, she did.

 

* * *

 

 

Numli, age 30, sat in the board room, feet propped up on the table. He chewed absently on a toothpick, twirling in around with his tongue a bit before spitting in a nearby trash bin. Folding his arms behind his head, he shifted to look at his assistant. “She’s late, isn’t she?” His assistant, a haggard looking goblin with a blue bun, nodded as she glanced down at her watch. “How late?”

 

“Thirty minutes, Mr. Buckspanner.” She answered. Numli sighed, picking his feet up off the table. He stood up slowly, stretching.

 

“We’ll give her ten more minutes.” Numli said finally, scratching his scalp and staring out the window. Kezan was as it always was, strung with glowing lights and choked with smog. He could see the silhouettes of smokestacks standing against the sea. Glimmering billboards shimmered in the low clouds. He sighed deeply, pushing a hand into his hair. The board room was dimly lit, the only proper illumination coming from the single window. Sitting under fluorescent lights got on his nerves, so the first thing he did on entering the board room was turn them off. Still, the darkness only seemed to add to his frustration. Arms folded, he dropped back into his chair.

 

Five minutes passed in silence. Finally, the door creaked open and she entered, tailed by her personal assistant and team of lawyers. She sat down across from him at the table, looking as perfect and pristine as ever, her yellow hair pulled back in a low side ponytail. In her lap she carried a cardboard folder stuffed with papers. Their eyes met for a moment. He’d forgotten just how purple her eyes were, like vibrant flowers. “Mornin’, Miss Fizzlebolt.” Numli flashed his most charming smile, giving Alizz a mock salute. She cracked a faint smile.

 

“Mornin’, Buckspanner.” She replied, shuffling through the papers in her file. “How have you been?”

 

“Just fine, toots. And you?”

 

“Fine. Business has been good. You’re looking well.”

 

“Listen, let’s not beat around the bush. You wanna make a contract or not?” Alizz nodded. She pulled a sheet of paper out of her folder and slid it across the table to him.  Numli skimmed lightly over the text, not processing a single word. His eyes flicked over the top of the paper. She wore a loose, frilly blouse. The way the light hit her, he could just make out the shape of her baby pink bra under the fabric. She noticed him peering at her. With a cold smile, she pointed at the contract in his hands. Numli looked back down. This probably wasn’t the best time for him to be eyeballing her anyway. Numli laid the contract back down on the table. “So, according to this, you’re going to handle marketing and distribution for KPC cosmetic products.”

 

“That’s right. I’ll send the full version of the contract over to your place later. You can read it over at your leisure.” Alizz replied. “And you can call my lawyers if you have any changes you want to make. Lizzie Incorporated is very glad to be working with Kajaro Processing Co. We’ll be happy to accommodate any suggestions you have.”

 

Numli peered around the table. Alizz’s assistant took the file from her boss, holding it delicately in her lap. The team of lawyers – there were four of them – all studied Numli with an air of superior indifference. He chuckled quietly. “Well, you’re all bein’ so compliant. How could I possibly say no? Just one thing before I sign, however.” The lawyers all simultaneously seemed to raise their brows. Alizz kept smiling, but there was no warmth in her expression. “I’d like to speak with Miss Fizzlebolt alone for a minute or two, if that’s all right with everyone.”

 

The lawyers exchanged glances. Alizz’s young assistant looked up at her searchingly. Alizz blinked once, twice, but her smile didn’t falter. “I don’t see why not.” Alizz replied. Still whispering and exchanging glances, her underlings got up from the table and filed outside. Numli’s assistant followed them. Chairs screeched and shoes squeaked on the floor as they all vanished into the hallway. Finally, once again, there was quiet. Numli gazed steadily at Alizz from across the table. In the eight or so years since they’d last properly spoken, she hadn’t changed much. She still wore her hair in that low side ponytail. She even wore the same color of lipstick.

 

“Liz…” Numli began, standing up. His chair screeched loudly on the floor. Alizz’s perfect mask of civility began to crack, the corners of her mouth twitching tellingly. Finally, it fell away entirely. She covered her face with her hands, eyes squeezed shut. “Lizzie…”

 

“Don’t call me that.” Alizz murmured, finally dropping her hands. She didn’t look at him, her eyes staying firmly shut. “This is business.”

 

“Don’t tell me what I can and can’t say.” Numli replied. “I have something I want to tell you.”

 

Alizz opened her eyes. They were stunningly purple. “What?” She asked, pushing back her bangs with her free hand.

 

“I missed you.” Numli said. Alizz stared at him incredulously for a moment before letting out a bitter giggle. “I mean it, toots. Why’d you stop talkin’ to me? I mean, damn. How long’s it been? After I made the switch to processin’ chemicals, you just…stopped seein’ me.”

 

Alizz shrugged. A sad smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.  “There was no reason to contact you, I guess.” She responded. “Business is business. Our business together ended.”

 

“What, so we weren’t friends outside of work?” Numli asked. “Stab me in the heart, why don’t you?”

 

Alizz frowned at him. “Don’t say things like that. I drove you to the hospital once. That was the extent of our non-work related interactions. We weren’t ever friends. Not real friends.”

 

“I told you before, I’ll say what I damn well please.”  Numli clenched his teeth. “And I’m tellin’ you that saying I wasn’t yer friend ain’t goin’ to increase the chances of me signin’ this contract.” As he got angrier, his accent started to slip back to the rough, twangy sound it had when he was a resident of the slums. He jabbed the contract with his sharp fingernail. “Dammit, woman, the least you can do is flatter me.”

 

Alizz smiled at him gently. She tapped her ear. “I can hear your slums accent again. Reminds me of when we first met.” Numli deflated a little, dropping back into his chair. “If you wanna know the truth, Numli, I missed you too. But I didn’t want to fool myself into thinking we had some kind of connection when we didn’t.”

 

“I thought we did.”

 

“It was just a business relationship.”

 

“Lizzie, yer breakin’ my heart.”

 

Alizz narrowed her eyes at him. “You didn’t come here to sign a contract, did you?” She said, stating it more as a fact than a question. “You could have just sent your assistant, but you wanted to meet in person.”

 

“Sure I did, Lizzie. I wanted to see my friend again.”

 

At that, Alizz quickly looked down at her hands, her long side-bangs falling in front of her face. The small gesture made Numli smile. She was blushing. Under the cool exterior, she was still the same Lizzie. After several seconds of silence, she pointed again at the contract. “If…If you sign that, I’ll be your friend again.” She covered her face with her hand. “Dammit, I sound like a toddler, don’t I?”

 

“Just part of your charm, Liz.” Numli pulled a pen out of his coat pocket and scribbled his name at the bottom of the contract. “Now you have no excuse.”

 

“No excuse for what?” Alizz glanced up. Her face was still a deep green with embarrassment.

 

“For not talkin’ to me.” Numli held up the contract so she could see his signature. Lizzie’s face broke into a smile – a real one this time. Numli slid the contract back across to her. She brushed his signature delicately with her long fingers. “How ‘bout dinner? On me?”

 

“Now you’re flirting.”

 

“Eight years is a long time. I wanna know what you’ve been up to.”

 

“Are we still supposed to be rivals?”

 

“Eh.”

 

Alizz chuckled. “Well, as long as you’re buying.”

 

* * *

 

 

Alizz woke up with Numli wrapped around her torso, his face buried between her shoulder blades. A sliver of white sunlight peeked through the curtain, drawing a pale line across the bed. Numli’s breath was warm against her bare back. His arms were coiled tightly around her mid section, not enough to hurt but enough to make moving difficult. “Numliiii…” Alizz whispered in a singsong voice, peering over her shoulder at the sleeping goblin. His nose and forehead were squished against the flat plane of her back. The clock on his bedside table read 10:30 AM. They’d both overslept. “Numliii, we’re late for wooooork…” She reached back and tugged sharply on the pointed tip of his ear. Numli woke with a start, accidentally slamming his head against the headboard.

 

“Ooow…” Numli groaned, rubbing his scalp. He settled back into his former position, his head resting now in the crook of Alizz’s neck. “That hurt, Lizzie.” He said, squeezing her a little tighter. Alizz let out a loud laugh and tried to wriggle out of his grip. He held her fast.

 

“Had to wake you up somehow.” Alizz giggled. Numli growled playfully, squeezing her again. Alizz burst out laughing a second time, fingers scrabbling at his hands as she tried to work free of his grip. She knew she couldn’t get away from him, nor did she want to. “We’re late for work.”

 

“I don’t want to go to work.” He replied, kissing her shoulder.

 

“We have to make money.”

 

“We already have money.”

 

“Our companies need us.”

 

“The companies will be fine on their own for a day.” Numli replied, leaving a line of kisses up her neck. “I’m beginning to think you _want_ to get away from me, toots.”

 

Alizz finally managed to squirm out of Numli’s grip. She rolled over to face him, hooking her arms around his neck. His hair stuck up at odd angles and his blue eyes were hazy with sleep. Lifting her hand, Alizz traced the outline of his pointed jaw. Gripping his chin, she pulled him into a kiss. “Why would I ever want to get away from you?” He leaned in for another kiss as she drew away. The softness of his mouth contrasted with the rough texture of his stubble. “Mm, all right. No more kisses until you shave.”

 

“Don’t torture me.”

 

“When was the last time you shaved? Honestly.” Alizz giggled. Numli rolled his eyes. “You have to get out of bed sometime.”

 

“All right, all right.” Numli sighed, kicking off the covers and rolling out of bed. He bent over, groping the dark floor for his trousers. Alizz saw him silhouetted against the dark as he ambled toward the bathroom.

 

“Hey.” She said. He paused at the bathroom door, glancing over his shoulder.

 

“What?”

 

“We oughta do this again sometime.”

 

Numli smiled. “Sure.” He turned back toward the bathroom.

 

“Hey!”

 

Numli paused in his tracks once again. “What?”

 

“I love you.”

 

He turned around, staring quizzically at her through the darkness. Alizz blushed fiercely, but looked him directly in the face. The silence grew tense and Alizz wondered if she’d been too hasty. All of a sudden, Numli walked back across the room and kissed her gently on the forehead. “I love you too, toots.”


	5. Proposal

Red, green, and yellow lights reflected in the rippling water of Gallywix’s pool. Waiters, all dressed in matching white suits, wove in and out of the crowd, carrying silver platters of hors d’oeuvres and champagne flutes. Numli stood in the corner by the buffet table, nursing a glass of champagne and observing the guests. All of Kezan’s elite were here. High class goblin women floated by in designer, one-of-a-kind dresses, talking and dancing and laughing with equally high class men. A small orchestra was gathered on the Trade Prince’s porch, playing through their repertoire of classical Kezan music. Trade Prince Gallywiz stood in the thick of it all, a silly looking top hat perched on his great, round head. His black tuxedo barely covered his massive gut. The Trade Prince smiled unpleasantly at the crowd of wealthy goblins, his small, watery eyes aglow with pride at his apparent popularity. Numli wrinkled his nose at the sight of the fat, aging Trade Prince.

 

Numli took another swig of champagne and scanned the crowd. Alizz wasn’t here yet. Checking his watch, he saw it was now a quarter to midnight. The party had been going on for a good half hour. He nervously rocked on his heels, free hand jammed deep in his pocket. A small, velvet covered sat in the depths of his pants pocket. He fingered it as he waited, grabbing another flute from a passing wiater as he finished the first one.

 

As a kid, Numli never imagined parties like this could exist. Even if he’d known about them back then, he’d never have imagined he would attend one.

 

A sort of reverent hush descended over the party. All through the crowd, eyes surreptitiously turned toward the patio gate. One of the white-clad waiters hurried to the gate, undoing the latch just in time for Alizz to step on the patio. Numli’s heart sped at the sight of her. He and Lizzie had been seeing each other for the last five years, but she never failed to impress him with her loveliness. Tonight, she wore a floor length gown covered entirely with tiny, winking crystals. The dress clung lovingly to her curvaceous figure, highlighting every feature of the body Numli had come to love so much. Her blonde hair fell over her naked shoulders in soft, romantic waves. Lizzie lifted her head and smiled sweetly at the guests. Numli quickly looked away, ignoring the rapid pounding of his heart. If anyone caught him gawking, it might pose problems. They were, after all, supposed to be bitter rivals. Romance was kept strictly under the table.

 

Alizz’s novelty quickly wore off, though. The goblins went back to chatting and dancing just as quickly as they had stopped. Lizzie joined the crowd, politely greeting the Trade Prince and every goblin who wandered up to her. Numli set his champagne glass down on the edge of the buffet table. Casually, he strolled through the throng of goblins toward where Alizz stood near Gallywix, courteously exchanging compliments with the corpulent old fool. Very lightly, Numli brushed her bare shoulder. Suppressing a smile, she turned to look at him. “Hello, Mr. Buckspanner.”

 

“Evenin’, Miss Fizzlebolt.” Numli said with forced coldness. “Nice dress.”

 

“Thank you.” She answered, mirroring Numli’s fake detachment. “You don’t look horrible.”

 

“How much of your company’s annual budget did that thing cost, anyway?”

 

“More than you make in a year, Buckspanner.” Alizz answered sharply. Gallywix let out a deep chortle. Numli glared harshly at the Trade Prince.

 

“You’d think for that much money you’d be able to buy something a little less garish. Nice seeing you, Miss Fizzlebolt.” Numli clapped her on the shoulder as he passed. As he moved past her, he whispered, in a voice just low enough to escape Gallywix’s notice, “ _Meet me inside in ten minutes_.” His hand slipped off her shoulder. Alizz watched him as he walked away. Numli couldn’t help but crack a smile. He vanished back into the crowd, ascending the steps onto Gallywix’s porch and ducking inside the villa.

 

Gallywix’s villa was gaudily decorated with bright colors and an abundance of animal prints. It wasn’t much to look at, but it would do for Numli’s plans. The villa was empty save for the waiters weaving in and out, fetching food and drinks from the large kitchen. Numli waited in the empty living room, tapping his foot impatiently. Ten minutes seemed like ten years. Finally, he heard the sliding door open and Alizz stepped inside. She looked around curiously, wrinkling her nose at the décor, before Numli snatched hold of her and pulled her into the living room. He embraced her passionately, planting kiss after kiss on her mouth. Alizz giggled quietly, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Careful, don’t smudge my lipstick.” She whispered, nipping playfully at his bottom lip.

 

“Sorry.” Numli chuckled. “Couldn’t help myself. You look gorgeous tonight, doll.”

 

“You’re looking pretty good yourself.” Alizz replied, smoothing the lapels of his coat with her hands. “What designer is this?”

 

“Hell if I know. You’re the fashion expert, not me.”

 

“Ah, it doesn’t matter.” Alizz smiled, affectionately stroking his chin. “You even shaved this morning. I didn’t know Gallywix’s party was such a special occasion. So…what? You want to go make out on Gallywix’s bed? Oh! Let’s see if we can find where he stores his valuables.”

 

Numli grinned nervously, staring down at his feet. “Actually, toots…there’s somethin’ important I wanted to ask you.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the small velvet box. Taking Alizz’s hands, he placed the little box in her palm. Alizz gazed at the box, then back at Numli, then back down at the box.

 

“Oh…” She breathed, “Is it…? Is it really?” He nodded. Alizz let out a tiny gasp. She tilted the lid of the box open. There, nestled in a soft cushion of fabric, was a sparkling diamond ring. “Oh, Numli! It’s beautiful!”

 

“Hey. Pretty lady deserves a pretty ring.”  Numli answered, grinning. Alizz seized hold of his collar and pulled him in for a kiss. The moment they parted, Numli gazed seriously at her. “So?”

 

“So what?”

 

“You’ll marry me, right?”

 

“Do you even have to ask?” Alizz replied. Numli raised an eyebrow. “Of course I will, Nums. But…” She hesitated.

 

“But what?”

 

“We’re supposed to be rivals, right?” Alizz blinked at the ring. “I mean, you and I…we’re both so close to becoming Trade Prince. And if we got hitched, everyone would know we’ve been working together secretly.”

 

“I don’t care about that anymore. Hell, I don’t even care about being Trade Prince.” Numli replied. Alizz stared incredulously at him. “Don’t look at me like that, toots. We can sort everything out later. Right now, I just want you.”

 

Alizz affectionately ruffled his hair. “You’re sweet.”

 

He snatched her wrist, bringing her hand to his lips and kissing it. “I mean it, doll.” He said. “We’ll keep it quiet for now, but when the time comes, I’m gonna shout it from Mount Kajaro.”

 

Alizz blushed deeply. She gently pulled her hand away from Numli and slipped the ring on over her middle finger. It gleamed like a tiny star. In Kezan, the smog and light pollution was so thick that you couldn’t even see stars unless you went out to sea. Softly, Alizz touched the ring, tracing the diamonds with the tip of her finger. When she looked up at Numli, her expression was so sweet and full of love that it nearly broke his heart. “So…” She said, brushing his face with her newly ringed hand, “You want to go make out on Gallywix’s bed now?”

 

“ _Fuck_ yes.”

 

* * *

 

 

Ask anyone at the party that night and they would have told you that Alizz and Numli vanished completely not one hour into the event. Ask Gallywix and he would have wondered who trashed his bedroom —after all, guests were forbidden from accessing the upper floors of his villa. Ask Alizz and she would say it was the best night of her life.

 

She caught herself gazing, enraptured, at the ring during work. The proposal played over and over again in her mind, plus what happened after. How Numli literally swept her off her feet and carried her up the stairs. How they’d snickered at Gallywix’s porn studio of a bedroom. How rough his hands felt as he slid her out of her crystal dress. It was all a secret, a happy secret that she smiled over and dreamt about. Her assistant, on the other hand, was probably thinking she’d lost her mind. Whenever Alizz asked her young assistant’s help picking out cake flavors or linen colors, the girl would just stare at her concernedly. As far as the assistant or anyone else knew, Alizz wasn’t even getting married.

 

She saw the wedding in her mind’s eye. It would be a beautiful affair, outdoors on the high slopes of Kajaro where the air was relatively clear. The reception would be at Numli’s house (because it was slightly bigger) and the cake would be gourmet with edible gold leaf on it. The entire event would be elegant, understated, and attractive. After that, she and Numli would go on a lovely honeymoon for just the two of them. Dreams swam in Alizz’s head, distracting her from work. She barely even noticed when small tremors began to rock the island of Kezan.

 

The quakes barely got any news coverage at first. Shanties in the slums collapsed, killing a few, but that was common. Who cared if a couple of poor goblins died anyway? It was when the rich goblins began feeling the tremors that they got news coverage. A villa fell down on the other side of the island. Mineshafts suffered cave-ins, trapping valuable troll workers and goblin engineers.  ‘Is it Kajaro?’ The papers asked. As far as anyone knew, Kajaro was a dormant volcano. The top geologists in Kezan mounted expeditions to the top to measure changes. If Kajaro were to blow, all of Kezan would be buried under lava. Goblins, quietly, began to fear for the city’s safety.

 

Alizz was afraid too.

 

“Relax, doll.” Numli said one night as they lay in bed together. “So there’ve been a couple of quakes. It’s fine. They’ll pass. Our wedding will be fine.” Because Numli said everything in such a cool, confident way, she believed him.

 

It wasn’t until the dragon appeared that everyone realized how serious the situation was. By then, fire was spilling down from Kajaro and flaming boulders were smashing through rooftops.

 

Alizz stared up at the slopes of Kajaro from her villa, watching as orange lava, bright as a summer sunset, spilled down from the mouth of the volcano. Smoke rose from the mountain top in massive, mile high plumes, raining ash down on the city. Alizz could hear faint screams coming up from the city. If she squinted hard, she could see people running and cars crashing. She bit down hard on her lower lip, trying to keep herself grounded. Adrenaline surged through her veins. It was torture to keep still in her house.

 

Her assistant approached her from behind. “Miss Fizzlebolt?”

 

“Yes?” Alizz asked, not looking away from the creeping fountain of lava.

 

“Mr. Buckspanner is here to see you. I let him in.” The assistant said timidly. Alizz nodded. “Miss Fizzlebolt?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“I…I’m getting nervous. I’d like to go check on my family, if that’s all right with you.”

 

“Sure. Go on.”

 

Numli entered just as the assistant left. He hovered uncertainly in the doorway for a second before joining Alizz by the window. He draped an arm around her shoulder, squeezing her gently. Alizz buried her face in his side. “Geez.” Numli breathed, staring transfixed at the descending lava.

 

Alizz, in the comfort of her fiancé’s arms, began to sob in earnest. “What’ll we do, Numli?” She wept. “They say the island is coming apart! And that dragon!”

 

“I know. I saw it too.” Numli muttered. “They’re evacuating the city. Everyone’s being loaded onto these huge cargo ships.”

 

“But where will we go?” Alizz squeaked. “Our companies will be destroyed! Kezan will be destroyed!”

 

“Lizzie, baby, calm down.” Numli clutched her hands reassuringly. “We can rebuild, if it comes to that. For now, we hafta get outta here.”

 

“All our money…” Alizz whimpered. “Our houses…The wedding…”

 

“I know. I know, toots.” He kissed her hands. “I came to get ya. Are you all packed? Go get a couple changes of clothes. We don’t got a whole lot of time on our hands, so hurry.”

 

All of a sudden, there was a loud crash downstairs. Alizz squealed in fright. The sounds of heavy footsteps echoed up the stairs. “Fizzlebolt!” A voice called. Clutching hands, Alizz and Numli made their way down to the foyer. There, perched atop his spider-legged walker, was Gallywix, surrounded by his underlings. The front door lay broken on the foyer floor. Gallywix raised an eyebrow seeing Numli and Alizz together. “Oh, Buckspanner’s here too. Good thing. Saves me a trip.”

 

“What are you doing here?” Numli glared icily at Gallywix.  “This is private property.”

 

“Does it really matter? Kajaro’s exploding on us.” Gallywix snarled back nastily. “You two lovebirds oughta be honored I stopped by. Gonna let you in on a little secret.”

 

“Secret?” Alizz echoed. Gallywix laughed.

 

“Why, sure. Since you two are such big shots around here, I figured I’d extend an…erm… _invite_ to ride on my private ship. Course is set for Azshara on the east coast of Kalimdor. There’s no way we’re comin’ back to this place.” Gallywix gestured outside, where huge, flaming boulders were reigning down on the city. “Of course, there’s the matter of payment.”

 

“Forget it.” Numli snarled. “We have our own boat.”

 

Gallywix frowned at Numli. “You sure?” He asked. “Maybe I forgot to mention…all the other private boats in the harbor have met with an, er, untimely end.”

 

“You mean you sunk them?” Alizz staggered forward, staring desperately at the fat prince atop his walker.

 

Gallywix shrugged. “I wouldn’t say _I_ sunk them. More like…oh, the big ol’ wave our dragon friend caused. Either way, they’re gone. You two coming aboard with me or not?”

 

Alizz looked around at the goblins who’d knocked down her door. “…How much?”

 

Gallywix tapped his chin, pretending to think. “Hrm. Well…we’re getting a little low on room…so…I’d say that ticket starting prices are about…say, everything you own.”

 

Alizz and Numli both froze in shock. “What do ya mean, ‘everything’?” Numli stammered.

 

Gallywix smirked. “Did I stutter?” He glanced out the window at the erupting volcano. “I’d say you two have about an hour to hit the banks. Bring everything you can carry down to the docks and we’ll leave this whole nasty mess behind us. If not…well…I’d say it’s about to get pretty hot down here. You two be careful now!” With a cruel laugh, Gallywix turned his robot walker around and left the house, followed by his underlings.

 

Alizz stared at her front door, broken into pieces all over the fine rugs her father collected. Heavy tears rolled down her cheeks. She sank onto her knees, palms pressed against the soft carpet. The tears dripped off her chin onto the floor. Numli knelt down beside her, tenderly rubbing her back. “We’re…we’re gonna l-lose _everything_.” She sniffled, not even bothering to wipe her tears. Gently, Numli lifted her chin so that she was looking him in the eye. His blue eyes were sad, but strangely composed. His unnatural calm spread to Alizz and stemmed the flow of her tears.

 

“We can rebuild, Lizzie. It’s gonna be all right.”

 

* * *

 

 

Because they had no choice, Numli and Alizz gathered up everything they had of value and handed it over to Gallywix. Summarily, they were tricked. With all their valuables under his arm, Gallywix had his mooks shove them in the dark hold with all the other goblins, changed up like slaves. That’s what they were now, slaves – creatures of little worth who would soon be forced to work like animals in a foreign land.

 

The boat’s hold was dark and hot. Hundreds of goblins sat in straight lines, packed so tightly that they were almost on top of each other. Chains bound their hands and feet so all they could do was stare into the black cluster of bodies. The only light came from a grate overhead, through which the crew would shout insults or orders at them. If someone cried too loud, one of the crew members would come stamp on the gate and scream at them to shut up. There was lots of crying. Even in dead silence, Numli could hear the faint, broken hearted sniffling of some goblin or another. The men cried as well as the women. Because of that, he was thankful for the darkness. He didn’t want Alizz to see the tears rolling down his face. His company, everything, was gone. Thanks to the chains, he couldn’t even hold his woman, who sat whimpering quietly next to him.

 

For a long time, neither of them spoke. He could hear Alizz weeping quietly beside him, but there was nothing he could do or say to help her. The feeling of powerlessness was overwhelming. Few goblins talked. Most were too absorbed with their own losses to even consider speaking. Every once in a while, Numli would turn his head to look at her. Alizz sat slumped over, like a corpse, and the image chilled him to the bone. He wanted to touch her and tell her it would be all right, but he didn’t know that for a fact. Even if they survived the long journey to Kalimdor, nothing good waited for them there. Alizz had never lifted anything heavy in her life. The life of a slave would break her.

 

As the boat rocked back and forth, the light from the grate overhead spilled across the enslaved goblins. When the light moved over Lizzie, Numli caught sight of something glinting on her finger. “ _Lizzie_.” He whispered. She looked up at him. “ _Your ring_. _Ya didn’t give it to Gallywix?_ ”

 

Alizz shook her head. “ _I couldn’t. It’s my engagement ring. I just couldn’t._ ” She whispered back. Numli’s blood pounded in his ears. Alizz’s ring had cost him a small fortune. It was white gold with a massive canary diamond, flanked on each side by three smaller diamonds. The gems were beautifully cut by an expert jeweler. The ring was entirely unique – worth more than enough to buy the freedom of two slaves.

 

“ _This is great, Lizzie. We can sell the ring to buy our freedom._ ” Numli whispered, grinning maniacally. “ _I don’t care_ what _species we’re dealing with, that ring is worth a fortune. How’d ya manage to hide it from Gallywix?_ ”

 

“ _I didn’t. I guess he just never looked at my fingers._ ”

 

Their whispers drew the notice of the other goblins nearby, some of whom noticed the glimmer on Lizzie’s finger. Numli bit his lower lip.  He leaned in as close as he could to Alizz. “ _Try to keep it hidden, okay, toots? Once we land in Azshara, slip it over to me and I’ll see about negotiating our freedom_.” He said as quietly as possible. “ _Once we’re free, I’ll buy ya an even better ring. Cross my heart._ ”

 

Alizz leaned closer to him. The tips of their noses just barely touched. “ _I love you_.” She whispered gently. “ _I don’t care if you get me a better ring or not. Even if we’re poor, I still want to marry you._ ”

 

“ _No woman of mine is gonna have to marry poor, Lizzie. I love you too. I’ll take care of you._ ” Numli remembered all the fond fantasies about their wedding that she shared with him. The very idea of her having to give up on those dreams made him sick. Lizzie was too good to marry a poor goblin. He’d find a way, even if it killed him. “ _I promise, I’ll make ya happy. We’ll have everything we had on Kezan and more._ ”

 

“ _Numli…If we’re both free and alive and together, it’s enough._ ”

 

Cue the sound of cannon fire.


	6. Fighter

Alizz turned and vomited seawater. Dry heaves wracked her torso and her throat burned with bile. Hiccupping, Alizz wiped her face. Her hair, heavy with water, dripped onto the soft, white sand. “Numli…?” Alizz called quietly, lifting her head. In the distance, she could still see the mile-high plumes of smoke rising from Kajaro. The black smoke loomed as a massive, dark pillar over the ocean. For a moment, Alizz lay on the sand, staring. Finally, clutching her stomach, Alizz struggled to her feet. “Nums?” Waves crashed smoothly against the white beach. Palm trees stirred overhead, nudged by a gentle, salty breeze.

 

Alizz couldn’t remember how she got here. The last thing she recalled was Numli’s promise as the two of them sat tied in the dark hull of Gallywix’s ship. ‘I’ll make ya happy.’ He said. ‘We’ll have everything we had on Kezan and more.’ Her reply was interrupted by the sound of cannon fire. All of a sudden, the hull of the ship exploded. Cannon balls ripped through the metal like paper. A huge torrent of water drowned out the screams of captives. Alizz, still clutching her gurgling stomach, looked up and down the length of the beach. No matter which way she looked, she couldn’t see any other goblins.  She stood alone on the sand, nauseous and dripping wet.

 

Overhead, the sky was a rich, cheerful blue. White clouds, like fluffy dollops of whipped cream, rolled by. Alizz couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen a clear sky. Smog hung permanently over Kezan. Sometimes she would spot little slivers of blue in the grey cloud cover, but nothing like this. The bright sky made her dizzy. Behind her, the island was covered with green. The arching hillsides were carpeted with lush, tropical flora. Alizz took a deep breath. The salty, pure air scorched her lungs.

 

With no idea where she was going or what to do, Alizz picked a direction and walked. The beach was long and quiet, stretching on far beyond Alizz’s range of vision. Beyond the beach, the island was covered in dense, verdant jungle. The idea of venturing alone into the jungle without a weapon frightened her. On the quiet beach, she swore she could hear the bellows of strange animals deep in the forests. After walking a while, she began to see bits of wreckage on the shore. Rivets, scraps of metal, broken barrels. The ship had gone down nearby, but where?

 

“Numli…?” Alizz called again, expecting no response. When the ship went down, Numli was right next to her. What if he was still chained in the hull? What if he’d drowned? The thought brought on a fresh wave of nausea. Alizz doubled over, vomiting heavily onto the sand. She staggered onward.

 

At last, she caught sight of a small figure lying prone on the sand. She dashed up, ignoring the sick feeling in her gut. Numli laid, eyes closed, half in the water and half out.  Alizz gripped him under the arm and pulled him to safety further up the beach. Kneeling down next to him, she gently wiped the sand off of his face. His eyelids twitched and he let out a low groan. He, too, was soaking wet.

 

Numli’s eyes flicked open. He smiled as he saw Alizz, reaching up to brush her face with a sandy hand. Slowly, with a grunt, he sat up and looked around. “Well, I guess I’m dead then.”

 

Alizz blinked at him. “What do you mean, dead?”

 

“This is clearly paradise and yer clearly an angel.” He replied, expression completely serious. Alizz giggled and pushed him playfully. He took hold of her wrists and pulled her in for a kiss. His face was damp and crusted with sand, but Alizz kissed him anyway. “Where are we anyway, toots?”

 

“I dunno.” Alizz replied, holding his hands. He wasn’t dead. Looking him over, he wasn’t even badly hurt. He was filthy with water and sand and his clothes were probably ruined forever, but Alizz didn’t care. Everything on Kezan was gone. Numli was all Alizz had left. She held his hands tightly, thanking whatever tide had pushed them both onto this island. “I’m so happy you’re alive.”

 

“I am too, toots! Wouldn’t want to be one of those poor suckers who got trapped in the hull.” Numli replied. He looked out over the ocean. “I guess that’s Kezan over there.” He pointed to the great column of smoke rising up into the sky. The island they now stood one was miles and miles from Kezan, but they could still see the tower of smoke from Kajaro. Alizz tried to picture what the city now looked like, entombed in burning liquid rock. The thought made Alizz’s eyes water. She latched onto Numli, hugging him tightly around the neck. Numli rubbed her back. “Hey. It’s all right. Don’t worry, doll.”

 

“How can you say things like that?” Alizz whimpered, pressing her face into his neck. “I thought…if we got to Azshara, things would be okay. But now we’re stuck on some goldforsaken island and we don’t know if anyone else survived.”

 

“Look on the bright side, Lizzie. Gallywix is probably dead.” Numli grinned toothily. Alizz cracked a smile. “And…hey, it’s kinda pretty here. Look at the sky. Haven’t seen this much sky in a long time.” He smiled vaguely up at the huge sky. Alizz looked up as well. The color was so vibrant that it hurt her eyes. She hid her face back in Numli’s shoulder. He stroked her hair reassuringly. “And we’re both alive, baby. Ain’t nothin’ a smart pair o’ goblins can’t do.”

 

“Right.” Alizz finally managed to smile. She touched his head. “Are you hurt at all?”

 

“No, don’t think so. I got a pretty bad knock on the head when the cannonballs hit, but that’s all.” Numli tenderly touched the back of his head. “No blood, though. What about you, Liz?”

 

“I feel a little sick. And my mouth’s really dry. I think I swallowed a lot of seawater.”

 

“That’s fine. That’s fine. We’ll just take it easy to start.” Numli helped her onto her feet. He turned slowly to look at the jungle-covered hills behind them. Somewhere in the trees, something roared. Alizz let out a little squeal of fright. Numli squeezed her encouragingly. “Animals are here. Big ones. That’s actually a good sign, doll. Means there’s gotta be fresh water. Probably somethin’ to eat too. As far as desert islands go, this was a pretty good place to crash.”

 

Alizz took a few tentative steps toward the jungle. Numli was right. The island was sort of pretty. Lush, tropical forests like this couldn’t grow without some kind of water source. A large volcano rose up over the tops of the trees – not half as big as Kajaro but still impressive. With its soft sand and luxuriant tropical forests, this island would have made a terrific vacation spot. Not to mention that a volcano yielded tons of rare natural resources. Alizz turned back to look at Numli. “This island’s close to Kezan. How come no one ever landed here before? It’d be perfect for a beach resort.”

 

Numli blinked. He looked back and forth along the deserted beach. “Let’s build one.”

 

Alizz blinked at him. “What do you mean, ‘let’s build one’?”

 

“A beach resort. There’s a forest, so there’s plenty of wood. And there’s probably some nice metals under that volcano.” Numli replied, gesturing to the volcano. “Let’s do it. Let’s build a resort.”

 

“A resort. On a deserted island. That no one knows about but us.”

 

“Sure. When a ship comes by, they’ll be drawn by the light of our heated pool and tiki bar.”

 

Alizz giggled and pushed him lightly. “You’re crazy.”

 

“And you’re beautiful, but that’s beside the point.” Numli replied, pulling her into his arms and kissing her. Alizz laughed again. He grinned. “But…before we begin construction on our five star resort, I think we oughta find some water.”

 

A loud yell from further down the beach interrupted their moment. Alizz turned. Against the brilliant blue of the sky and sea, she could see the silhouettes of four or five goblins running toward them. “HEY! I FOUND MORE SURVIVORS!” One of them yelled. “YOU GUYS ALL RIGHT?”

 

Alizz beamed up at Numli, who stared at the rapidly approaching silhouettes, frowning.

 

* * *

 

“Well, well, well…Look who’s here.” The beach was littered with wreckage. Gallywix stood atop the broken bow of the ship. All around, goblins huddled by the wrecked vessel, some erecting flimsy shelters and others venturing out into the warm, shallow waters to recover supplies. The Trade Prince lounged back on a makeshift beach chair, observing the survivors as they worked but not lifting a finger to help them. Numli stood below on the sand, eyes locked on the Trade Prince. In one hand, he held Alizz. The other hand groped inside his coat for his switchblade. Gallywix fingered a large coconut, shifting it from one hand to the other. “Thought you two were dead. Heh.” He cracked a nasty smile, showing his yellowed teeth.

 

Numli’s hand closed around his switchblade. The blade rested deep in his inner jacket pocket. Gallywix’s mooks hadn’t bothered to search his clothes before they shoved him in the hull. Numli drew the knife out of his jacket and flipped it open. Up on his perch, Gallywix raised an eyebrow. “Where’re yer mooks, Gallywix?” Numli growled. “They all drown?”

 

Gallywix rose from his chair with a grunt. “You threatenin’ me, Buckspanner?”

 

“What if I am? I don’t see any guards around…what’s stopping me from slashing your throat right here and now?” Numli let go of Alizz and advanced up the ramp toward Gallywix. “That’s what you did to the last Trade Prince, right?”

 

Gallywix dropped his coconut down in his chair. “And what would that accomplish, Buckspanner?”

 

“Well, it’d get rid of the greedy bastard who tried to _enslave us all._ ”

 

Gallywix chuckled quietly. “Now, now, Numli…Maybe what I did could be considered…slightly objectionable, but I was _really_ just looking out for our cartel. I mean, there’s nothing left for us on Kezan, is there? Sometimes you have to use force to move goblins. We’re a stubborn group…”

 

“That’s bullcrap and you know it.” Numli spat. “You sold us out, you piece of shit!” Numli started toward the Trade Prince, brandishing his knife. All of a sudden, Alizz grabbed him from behind, dragging him forcibly off the ramp. Gallywix cackled. Jerking free, Numli whirled around to face her. “Lizzie, what the hell!”

 

“ _Numli, he’s the only one with the funds to get us off this island_.” She whispered hoarsely, cradling his face with her hands.

 

“Lizzie!” Numli snarled, jerking away from her touch. “Are you suggesting we work with this bastard?!” He pointed sharply at Gallywix with his knife. The Trade Prince couldn’t stop laughing.

 

“Do we have a choice, Nums?” Alizz replied gently.  “We can’t stay here.”

 

Numli couldn’t look at her. He looked instead toward the green hills and the looming volcano. Long ago, Kezan probably looked a lot like this place, covered in lush jungle. Numli could hardly imagine it. Once upon a time, a long time ago, goblins were just another race of brutal savages. The minerals below the volcano were what granted them their intelligence. His head throbbed. Lizzie reached out to touch him again, but he caught her hand. Gallywix’s shrill cackling rang painfully in his skull. “We could stay here.” He murmured. Alizz stared at him, her mouth slightly open.

 

“Numli…”

 

“Think about it, Lizzie. This place could be just like Kezan.”

 

“Numli…no.”  Finally, he let her touch him. Her hand was soft against his cheek. He looked up at her. Lizzie’s skin was a delicate pale green. Her face was round and unscarred. She was a princess, a fragile woman who’d never had to work hard in her life. She wouldn’t survive in the wilderness. He closed the switchblade and placed it in her palm. Alizz’s soft fingers closed around the wood handle.  “What’s this?”

 

Before Numli could reply, he caught sight of a female goblin beckoning them from around the side of the broken bow. “Hold on.” He said, leaving the switchblade in Alizz’s hand. Alizz trailed after him. The goblin woman grinned at them. She kept her teal hair piled high in a top knot on her head. Numli didn’t recognize her.

 

“ _Thanks for comin’ over. Keep your voices down, will ya?_ ” She whispered in a low voice, glancing surreptitiously up at Gallywix on his stand. “ _I know you two. Seen you around the business circuit._ ”

 

_“That’s great, but who are you?_ ” Alizz whispered back.

 

“ _Sassy Hardwrench_.” The female goblin replied. “ _I used to work for the Kajaro Trading Company. It was a small operation. Perhaps you’ve heard of it?_ ”

 

Numli thought for a moment, then nodded. “ _I think so. You worked for what’s-his-name._ ”

 

“ _Yeah, his name’s a little hard to pronounce.”_ Sassy gave them a friendly smile. “ _It’s lucky you two survived. I actually need a pair of goblins. I liked how you handled that knife, Mr. Buckspanner. You must be pretty good at fighting._ ”

 

Numli glanced over at Alizz. She stood a foot or so away from him, clutching the switchblade handle and staring down at her feet. Thanks to the seawater and the heat, her usually perfect hair had dried crinkled like crepe paper. The tip of her nose was dark with sunburn. Everything about her looked sad and tired. She sniffled, rubbing her eyes. He draped an arm around her shoulder. “ _I know a thing or two._ ” He whispered in reply. Sassy’s eyes lit up. Alizz glanced up at him without lifting her head, the movement of her eyes almost imperceptible.

 

“ _That’s perfect. Really perfect. My boss and I…well, my old boss…we’re makin’ a plan to unseat Gallywix and get off the island. We need all the help we can get. And I can pay you too._ _Not much, but it’s somethin’_.”

 

Numli perked up slightly at the mention of pay. “ _What do we get paid in?_ ”

 

“ _Copper coins. Found a whole chest of them. Like I said, it ain’t much, but it’s more than nothin’._ ”

 

Copper coins. Numli almost giggled. No one used coins anymore. The coin system was incredibly archaic. Goblins had replaced metal coins with paper macaroons a long time ago. Still, Sassy was right. For a goblin who’d just recently lost his entire fortune, a few copper coins seemed like a blessing. “ _I’ll take it.”_ Numli answered. A big, toothy grin spread over Sassy’s face.

 

“ _We’ll take it._ ” Said a small voice beside him. Alizz stared boldly at Sassy, her face set in an expression of grim determination. She caught him staring at her. Her fingers clenched around the handle of the switchblade. “ _I want to do this with you, Numli._ ”

 

“ _Lizzie…_ ”

 

Sassy smirked. “ _Two for the price of one. Not bad. I look forward to working with you two. I’ll get you some weapons…_ ”

 

_“Wait. What exactly does this job entail?_ ”

 

Sassy grinned hungrily. “ _You’ll see._ ”

 

* * *

 

 

“How are ya feelin’?”

 

Alizz’s hands were sore from holding her daggers. Her palms oozed tiny droplets of blood. All through her chest, muscles throbbed painfully. Everything in her body hurt, whether it was the sunburn on the back of her neck or the strained muscles in her arms. How did she feel? Like crap. Worse than crap.  More than anything, she wanted to lie down and go to sleep. Putting on a brave smile, she looked up at Numli. “I feel fine.” She replied. Her arms felt as though someone had attached thousand pound weights to them.

 

There had to be a hundred goblins on the frigate, maybe more. Just finding a quiet place on the crowded hull was difficult. Alizz’s head throbbed. She sat on the floor toward the stern of the ship, her back pressed against the wheelhouse wall. Overhead, the sky was just beginning to turn orange. Alizz didn’t know how long she and Numli had been on this island, but now they were leaving. Numli sank down next to her. Tenderly, he brushed a strand of hair away from her face. “It hurts, right?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“That’s good.” He replied. Alizz looked at him, eyebrows raised.  He smiled. “I mean it. Pain means yer getting stronger. Ya ripped up all yer old muscles and now yer body’s building new ones.”

 

Alizz couldn’t smile back. “It’s horrible.”

 

Numli laughed. “You’ll be sore for a while, toots. But, hey, yer the one who wanted to fight with knives. Knife fightin’ requires some strength.” Gently, he pulled her into his lap. Alizz didn’t resist. She nuzzled her head into the crook of his neck, eyes slipping shut. Even with the leather armor on, he was soft. He still smelled like oil and rust. Alizz was happy for that—the smell of his skin reminded her of their comfortable life in Kezan. She hung her aching arms around his neck. Cradled in his lap, Alizz felt finally at ease.  “You can go to sleep if ya want. I’ll wake you up when we get to Azshara.”

 

“Thanks, Nums. I’m tired.”

 

“I am too, doll.”

 

Alizz listened to him breathing. Her twin daggers lay abandoned by his thigh. He carried knives too, his favorite switchblade and another he’d picked up on their adventures around the island. Behind them, the forests burned in molten rock. He combed his fingers through her hair, twisting his hand up in the frayed end of her ponytail. “Numli?” She asked quietly.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“What’ll we do when we get to Azshara?”

 

Slowly, the Horde frigate pulled away from the shore. The red banner atop the main mast flapped proudly in the wind. “Find some money.” Numli answered, twisting a strand of her hair around his finger. “Buy some real estate.”

 

“And get married?”

 

“Of course.” Numli smiled gently at her. “Money first, though. I’m not lettin’ you marry a poor goblin.”

 

“I want to marry a poor goblin, though.”

 

“Lizzie, please. Don’t argue with me on this.”

 

Alizz was too tired to protest. “All right.” She let out a sigh, squeezing him lovingly around the neck. “But…you’re still Numli, rich or poor. And I love you.”

 

“I love you too, doll.” Numli replied. He paused for a few seconds, then added, “Rich or poor.”

 


End file.
